Anton tapped a small vial nervously. A small tremor passed through his hand, creating a ripple in the clear liquid. A fraction of an ounce, but enough to get him hauled away into a Rebel brig and locked away until he was withered skin and bone. His hand quivered again as he locked the small vial into the back of the injector. The handheld popped as he placed it against his neck. There was a tingle as the drug circulated into his body.

"Captain, all fighters are in place." His radio crackled. "We are ready to engage the attack." Anton fumbled the injector back into its cubby-hole in the console of the fighter. Soondi, his gunner was drifting behind him, tracking the other fighters in the squadron with her ion gun. Boredom was too often their enemy out here.

"Roger, attack pattern Epsilon. Jump to primary coordinates and make your attack runs. Good luck." He said. He buttoned back into his flight helmet, dropping the targeting reticle over his right eye. He hit the hyperdrive and the small fighter slipped out of realspace and into hyperspace. The rest of the squadron, eleven other well used Y-wings made the short jump.

*****"Admiral Malthus, we have contacts on the sensors, multiple inbound." The electronics officer said. The Admiral looked up from his data log, and scowled. The rebels had neither shame or common sense.

"Deploy the TIE fighters, and dont bother me again unless it is important." Malthus said, pausing to take a sip of imported hot klah. He had more important things to do than bother with rebel thorns. Perhaps if the emperor's pet freak Vader found the Rebel bases they would stop this infernal irritation. If they had actually done some damage, then he could respect them as foes, but the so called 'Bandit Squadron' had done nothing more than destroy fewer than a dozen TIE fighters, and moderately damage a single transport. Too bad it had cost them more than twenty of their decrepid Y-wings in the process. Antiquidated designs that should have been decomissioned and stamped out into servant droids for all the good that they did.

*****

Hun-Go held the controls tightly as his Y-wing leapt across six parsecs to within a few hundred miles of the Imperial convoy. Six cargo ships, one escort cruiser, and likely to be two to three times their number in d**ned TIE's. He slammed the throttle forward, letting the engines howl as the fighter accelerated towards the lead ship of the convoy.

A few shots deflected harmlessly off of the ray shields, too light to do any damage at range, but too often a deterrent to green pilots. The one-eyed gungan rolled the heavy craft to the right, letting most of the shots pass under his craft, saving the shields for when they got closer in.

"Yousa got a lock?" he asked Nerim, his gunner. The portly man was sitting face down into the console of the gunnery station, the lead ship illuminated in technicolor green. There was an irregular beep, the ship was jamming lock on frequencies, but it was a limited measure. The closer they got, the stronger the signal would get and would be able to override the jamming.

"Not yet, we have to get closer." he said, his head starting to sweat.

"Yousa want closer, yousa get closer." Hun-Go said. "Bandeets three and five, stay wisa me." he said over the link. Two of the Y's closed up on the gungan. "Wisa gonna go in'da teef!" he said.

Anton called the rest of the squadron to pull in, and go in close. "Soondi, keep frosty back there, who knows when the d**n TIEs will pop up. Imperial gunners dont care who they hit." he said as his ship vibrated under several close hits.

4 BBY, the Rebel Alliance established Bandit Squadron. The group operates out of a small base on an asteroid in the Kios system, most of the asteroid having been hollowed out by a long since dead space worm. The group was equipped with 12 Y-wing starfighters, and a support group of three medium freighters. The Y-wings ran three to five missions a week, while the freighters rotated between carrying supplies, personel, and normal cargo to keep up appearances. A few of the squadrons founded during this time would go on to greatness and glory such as the vaunted Rogue Squadron.

A year after it was founded, Bandit Squadron became a dumping ground for pilots and crew members who had issues with the empire. Most were trigger-happy and mediocre pilots without a scrap of military training. Placed against the Imperials, the squadron suffered severe losses time and again. The asteroid contains the wreckage of no fewer than nine destroyed Y-wings that are frequently cannibalised for needed parts.

Their luck changed when they rescued a downed TIE pilot after his escort carrier abandoned him in his crippled TIE fighter. Lt. Cash was a low ranking officer among TIE pilots, and he viciously mocked the unit for it's pathetic tactics and lack of skill. No training, no discipline, and no respect, he quipped. The unit couldnt say anything as they barely followed the Captains orders, their losses were usually heavy, and not a single one had adopted any sort of uniform. Half didnt even wear clean clothing.

When told to put his money where his mouth was, Cash demanded a Y-wing and he would show them how a pilot was supposed to act. The captain co-piloted, and Hun-Go, the one eyed gungan sat in the gunner's seat, a blaster pistol ready in case the Imperial should try something funny. Several attack runs later, they could not help but see that the enemy was right, their skill was horrible, and worse, embarassing.

Six weeks later, after much debate, Cash was allowed to join the squadron. His co-pilot and gunner were picked out of loyalty to the alliance, and their ability to take down the former TIE pilot if he should decide to return to his Imperial allies. Within a week of flight operations, both were in a standard uniform. Through force of personality, and obvious skill, Cash won the respect, grudgingly, of the squadron.

"Operation Rat Tail..." Anton said, looking at the floating holographic display, a string of ships was moving across the sector, hauling precious cargo for Admiral Malthus. If he got it through, and sold it would put him a good deal closer to his goal. It was hard enough to keep the rebel shipping clear in the sector with Malthus' current fleet, but if was able to add just the single Star Destroyer he was aiming for it could end the Rebel corridor.

"You see how he disrespects you as a foe?" Cash said, standing ramrod straight. Soondi, his face-painted gunner stood close by, her posture mirroring the former TIE pilot. "All the ships are in a weak formation, no overlapping fields of fire, no supporting fire, just a pair of excort frigates, twenty-four TIE fighters between the two of them."

"My own, what makes you think those TIE pilots are any kin to me, more than 70% are still clones. Do you think I care if I mark off one more clone corpse? Might as well still be using droids for all that it matters to me." He said with a bitter voice.

"That'll float for now." Anton said, scowling at the holo. It was to easy, and too hard at the same time. The information was genuine, but they only had a little over an hour to think on it before the launch window closed. "We launch, I'll take the alpha flight, you take the beta flight, I'll cover you."

"I think I'd rather stay here than rely on your...cover." Cash said.

"You can stay in the brig."

"Better in the brig than blasted out of the sky while you chase your own ass bushpilot." Cash said. "You dont know what kind of craft you have, and you want me to rely on you, you can go to hell."

"Captain, Cash is a trained fighter pilot, perhaps he should take the alpha flight..." Soondi said, her face blushed red from concern, or whatever emotion made her d**n species change color.

"And here I was thinking that we picked you as Cash's gunner because you were steadfast to the Rebellion." Anton accused.

"What would the rebellion think about you habit, captain?" she asked, her tone sharp and barbed like a fishhook.

"You've made your point, lt. Soondi, dismissed. I will see everyone on the flight deck in thirty minutes, all fighters should be loaded and fueled by then." Anton said, his hand giving a tremor under the table. The thought gnawed at him, he had blacked out in the last run, and only the Force had kept the TIEs from sweeping in and blasting his prostrate Y-wing into space junk.

*****

The familiar drone of the Ion engines was soothing, complete with the soft hum of the onboard computer, and the occassional twitter and chirp of the R2 unit locked in behind the cockpit. Cash relaxed in the command console. Soondi and his navigator Samos were equally relaxed as the ship made the second targeted jump, and prepared for the third. Space was creeping past as they passed the final navigation point to their target. In sixteen minutes the two flights of Y-wings would break from hyperspace less than 100 km from the Imperial convoy.

If the first flight had followed their coordinates and time table, they were three minutes ahead of the second flight, long enough to let the TIEs get spaceborn and moving into position. His fingers itched on the triggers of the Y-wings twin laser cannons. The craft was a hell of a lot bigger than a TIE, but it could take ten times more punishment and come back to base, plus it had both a shield generator, and a hyperdrive. The TIE wasnt much more than a pair of laser cannons on top of a pair of engines.

The six Y-wings of Alpha Flight broke into realspace, less than 10 Km from the assembling first wing of TIE fighters. The beta wing was already halway to the target, moving to attack speed.

"Inverse rolls, everyone after me!" Cash said, throwing the heavy craft into a righthand roll. He closed to less than 500 meters and unleashed the girl's big guns, ripping into one TIE, and taking the solar array off of a second. A barrage of laser fire tore into the TIEs. They scattered, leaving their wingmen and leaders, easy pickings for the Y-wings. Cash threw his wing into another roll, spewing more laser fire into the wake of a TIE.

Anton gripped the controls of his Y-wing nervously, the engines seemed to howl as the big craft rocketed towards the Imperial convoy. Light blaster and laser fire specked against the forward shields. He sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind he saw all of Alpha wing swinging in with the TIE's ripping his entire wing, and himself into space trash. A bead of sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Almost there..." his gunner said, aligning the targeting computer with his primary target, a plasma vent on the starboard side of the lead freighter, a 500 meter long Kuat 3000 series. The computer blipped slowly, tracking not the big ship, they could have hit it from three times their current distance. The shaft was a different matter. A hull hit would damage some cargo, but not much else, a torpedo down her gullet could destroy the entire thing, chain reaction through the plasma coupling system. If the crew was lucky, the command pod would emergency jettison a few seconds before the ship went critical...if not...well it was war.

Beta 2 was sighting up along with him, while the others were breaking off for their own attack runs. "TIE's, TIEs..." his radio crackled. Djana, his gunner shouted a curse in her native Tamaranian as she unloaded the Y-wings rear laser cannon. The TIEs quickly drew off, Alpha wing had exited hyperspace. His moment of fear came, his stomach drew up into a knot as he expected the laser blasts to come searing through his gut.

"d**n, I've never seen flying like that..." Djana said, watching the Alpha wing roll through the TIEs, destroying a large number of them and only taking a few hits themselves.

"You're all clear, commander." Cash said across the radio.

"I've got tone..." his gunner said, hitting the triggers and firing both torpedos into the lead freighter. Beta 2 fired a second later. Two of the torpedos impacted on the surface, tearing gaping holes in the thin hull of the freighter. Two others vanished into the plasma port. The transport seemed to swell for a moment before exploding in a huge blast of plasma-flame and glittering wreckage.

Hun-Go was silent on the ride back to the base, his one good eye seeming to drift off into space, he was being introspective. Dashi leaned back from the rear-gunner's seat and tapped him on the shoulder. The scarred gungan grunted in responce.

"Theesa be de best mission weesa run yet." Hun-Go said, he scratched just below where his missing eye-stalk would have been, but drew the finger back when it met the cool feel of synthplastic instead of skin. "Maybeesa dis Cash issa betta captain dan-de captain."

"You better not let Anton hear you say that, Blinky." Dashi said, "He'd be pissed enough to cram you into one of the torpedo launchers."

"Yousa knows it be da truth. Howsa many fighters we goin done lost, howsa many pilots, howsa many gunnas. Lotsa all dem, and for what, nothin to be show." The gungan said. Dashi didnt know where the floppy headed alien was from, but he had gathered that the Empire had done a number on the planet, supposedly turning it into some sort of live fire testing range. There werent too many gungans left, so no one pressed the issue.

Six hours later, the Y-wings, the full complement that left, returned to the asteroid base. Two were damaged pretty badly, engines shot up, and their R2 droids in rough shape, but not a single pilot had been lost. Anton felt sick, too long without a hit, and the fact that a single Imperial Officer had just been responsible for the best run the squadron had in the last eight months of operation. The ground crews looked shocked as the full squadron returned.

*****"Admiral Malthus...the Zsas convoy was attacked four hours ago..." a private said, a communicator pressed to his ear, his face was a rictus of fear and anxiety. "Three of the freighters were destroyed, along with the loss of 9 TIE fighters, and signifigant damage to the corvette Algol."

Malthus almost choked on his cup of klah. His mind whirled, The loss of three freighters would be almost 4 million credits. The fighters were only a small fraction compared to the loss of the larger ships. He felt a dizzy sensation in his stomach. Three freighters, all of their tons of cargo...lost. He clenched a fist, the ships would be replaced.

"Tell Captain Candice to ready my fleet, we are going on an impressment mission." Malthus said. There had been rumor of conflict between the Gamorrians and the Hutts, he could confiscate some of the Gamorrain ships and use them to replace the freighters. If they wanted them back, he could ransom the ships, and their crews back to their planetary govenor. It wouldnt be a complete loss, but it still stung.

"Yes sir." The private saluted and linked to Candice's private quarters to inform the Captain of her fleet command.

"It is simply a matter of tactics." Cash said, addressing the full complement of Bandit Squadron. The hanger deck of the asteroid base echoed with the sound of his voice and the steady tapping of his polished boots on the laser cut stone floor. "A TIE fighter is faster, and about six times more agile than a single Y-wing. It can fly circles around you, and use its two small laser cannons to chew through your shields, rip into the hull of your fighter, and blow you to pieces." He said. THe looks on their faces told him that these were the survivors, those who knew what he was talking about. According to the records that Anton had let him see, the squadron had lost over 30 fighters in the eight months of its operation.

There were a handful of original pilots and gunners, like the one-eyed gungan, and the mysterious female Soondi. The culture of her homeworld dictated that she had to paint her face completely black, save for a vertical white strip that was as wide as a finger and ran from the point of her chin to the base of her scalp. The rest were newer pilots and fell neatly into one general pile.

Dashi had been on Saluca when Governor Pilate had declared martial law, and had lost half of his family, and almost everything he owned. Being a licensed cloud-car pilot, he joined the Rebels to fight the empire. He was half-rate as a pilot, but was good as a tail-gunner. THe rest read out the same, some aviation skill, and a grudge to pick with the empire.

"Now, let me tell you some of the TIE's deficiencies. It has no shield generator. Even a glancing hit can disable or destroy a TIE. It also lacks a pressurized cockpit, each pilot has to fly in a vaccuum rated flight suit, with a full helmet. This is tiresome, and the helmet restricts peripheral vision." he said, pulling out his flight issue imperial helmet. He handed the gloss black helmet to the first flight member closest, Djana. She pulled the helmet over her hair...

"I can only see directly in front of me," she tapped the sides of the helmet, her perspective reduced greatly.

"Some of you may have noticed that the TIE has a large plasteel nosecone. Forward vision is perfect, but again, peripheral vision is reduced. The Y-wing has a wrap around canopy, but it also has a blind spot directly beneath it." Cash said. He picked up some improvised tools. He had a miniature TIE fighter and a mini Y-wing on metal rods.

"Y-wings fly in on attack runs, fast straight and narrow. This presents a strong attack, and the advantage of overlapping shields. It also creates areas of weakness." he pointed the nose of the TIE at the belly of the Y-wing. "Ventral attack, weak shields, no defensive maneuvering, easy pickings. Dorsal and rear attacks are offset by the defensive gunner, making the belly attack the best avenue."

"If you already know this captain, why haven't you done something about it? Content to keep having your higher ups send you new pilots and fighters to throw away?" Anton threw his cup of klah on the ground, shattering it against the flight deck.

Half of the squadron pulled the captain off of the former imperial under-officer. They had been struck by Cash's words, by the accusation that the captain had simply kept using the tactics that got so many of them killed, so many maimed for life.

"How do we maintain an attack run without being killed like this?" Soondi asked.

"For one, there is maintaining combat cover, like we did on the last mission. However, with only one squadron and limited resources, this might be more of a luxury than a viable option. Another option is to invert half of the fighters, make the attack run upside down."

"You'se bee kiddin." Hun-Go said.

"Not at all. All gravity is subjective, artificial. It is hard to tell, but half the time a TIE is inverted. Roll, changing the pitch and yaw of the fighter, changes in speed, all of these throw off gunners and targeting computers. Each fighter has armor plating, a shield generator, at least 50% more firepower than a TIE, pressurized cockpit, a hyperdrive, and a back-up droid. Yet, smaller and faster keeps winning."

"Deploy into attack groups, with a rear group providing covering fire for the leader..." the imperial lectured on space combat tactics developed over centuries of the Old Republic.

Anton was uncomfortable in the hot seat, his commanding officer giving him a stern silent look that would have blistered plasteel. She was silent too long, lettinh him stew in his own juices as the expression went, the Force only knew what reason he was in her office, the coldest place on the d**ned asteroid. Maybe she had found his stash, or something had gone wrong and some stupid politics made the freighters they blew up belong to the good guys. He hated all of the cloak and dagger crap.

"So, do you have anything to say for yourself, Captain?" she asked, rising to her feet, letting the tap of her boots echo off of the wall. "Or do you plan on sitting there and sweating like a Gamorian in rut?"

"I think I'll sit here and sweat." he said.

"Comedian, always a d**ned comedian. What in the galaxy were you thinking, letting an Imperial turncoat all but take over the squadron. The man is two steps away from being in a rebel brig ship and being sent to Tatooine for softening up. They have hoods and electrical wire, they are professionals. He could tell the intelligence people alot of useful information." She said.

"Yeah, or he could stay here and keep teaching us how to not get killed flying around in antique old republic starfighters. Have you even noticed the stats from the last mission. Zero casualties. Not one man, not one craft lost. And, on top of that we took down at least a dozen TIEs and three of the freighters." he said, standing himself.

"You are a disgrace as an officer, no wonder they dumped you out here in this dead end dump they call a forward base." she said acerbicaly.

"Then what are you doing here?" he shot back.

"Dont try getting smart, Anton. You are better off playing stupid, it fits you better." she scowled, her boots tapping loudly against the stone floor. "And you know d**ned well I requested combat action, I didnt expect to end up baby-sitting the worst squadron in the entire Alliance. Bandit squadron is the laughing stock of the entire fleet."

"I've heard some of the jokes, they are pretty bad jokes. My favorite is How many crewmen does it take to fly on of Bandit's Y-wings?...twelve, three to man the fighter and the other nine to push it." He said.

"And you, moron, think that is funny. Even the Gamorian expatriots have a better record than you do, and they are flying older Cloakshape fighters." She shot back.

"Oh, yeah, military trained pilots, in starfighters they were trained to fly. So what, half of my pilots trained in Forced**ned cloud cars, airspeeders, and repulsorcraft. My gunners have no practice time, and the fighters are half falling apart when we arent running on missions. It was a stroke of luck that we had a full complement of fighters for this last mission." He said accusingly.

"Good luck on your next run captain, the ground chief says you'll have a grand total of five fighters. Maybe your luck will hold out, or maybe I'll get to request a new flight captain." she smiled.

"And maybe you can kiss my..." he started. Anton was interrupted by a knock at the door. The Major turned her turbolaser glare agains the plexiglas door, almost burning the skin off of the scarred Gungan, Hun-Go.

"Sheese be one mad bossa." Hun-Go said as he walked with Anton back towards the hanger where the Y-wings sat silently. "Busheesa not da probleem." he said.

"Something about there only being five fighters for the next mission?" Anton ventured a guess.

"Thassa right boss." Hun-Go said. "Issa de batteries, dey be dead and it bessa some time before thesa all ready to go. Wessa got five wings, nada one more."

"Great, looks like a classic force lay-off. Everyone who the major doesnt like gets shipped off on this little jaunt and the odds of them coming back are pretty slim. Crazy, dammit, its just crazy." he scowled. The two entered the hanger bay, greeted by a group of worried faces. The other pilots and crews stood by looking concerned.

"Are they really going to send us on a five ship attack mission?" Soondi asked, her hands clasped in front if her.

"We werent lucky. We were good." Cash said. "As for suicide missions, I had enough of those in a TIE fighter. You can lock me in the brig before I go out on a suicide run with two other crew members." Cash scowled.

"We've got our orders people. Its a run against another convoy, two frieghters and the Hassid is the escort." Anton said, wishing he could hit another dose of stim. "no more than 6 TIE defenders."

"That's incorrect, sir." Cash said, "Hassid was refit about six months ago and now has berths for at least 12 to 18 TIE fighters. They reduced the cargo and shuttle space to make room for more fighter racks and bays. It really is a suicide mission."

The space between the stars is cold and quiet, the holos dont show that part when they do the dramas about the Clone Wars. They leave that cold part out, instead showing the swoop and rattle of the heavy ARC-170s that the clones used, or the forerunners of the TIE fighters, the Jedi Fighter rolling and cutting back and forth with blaster fire. Sixteen hours one way, and another sixteen back to the base. Anton grumbled as he leaned back in the hot seat. The astromech was flying the fighter, all five were running on droid pilot for the time being. Every few hours the fighters would drop out of hyperspace, reorient, and make another jump.

It was a game between the Imperial plotters and the squadron. some Imperial ships could track incoming ships and extrapolate their point of origin. Angel Squadron discovered that trick the hard way. They were outnumbered eight to one when the Imperials dropped a task fleet on their base. It was a hard blow to the sector, the Angels were good. Record says that the Imperials lost thirty seven TIEs taking out the 12 Y-wings.

He rolled a Death stick and lit it. It settled his nerves, it was far to soon to try for a shot of stim. He needed that calm later, when his life depended on it. He was worried, Hun-Go and Cash had both ended up volunteering for the mission, despite all of his talk otherwise Cash was turning out to be a real human being under the Imperial training.

*****Cash ran a new set of calculations through the fighter's limited computer. it was still ten times better than what was available on a standard TIE. He punched in a few numbers and watched the machine run another set of parameters. Each time the numbers were discouraging, at best two fighters might escape this debacle of a mission. The witch of a Squadron Colonel had almost seemed happy to see the fighters whisk off on this death mission. He had seem too many officers like that on the Imperial Ships.

"Is it getting any better?" Soondi asked.

"Not really, our best odds are 40%. Its going to be a mother of a ride when we make that last hop out of hyperspace. You'll want to make sure to have your shoes tied and your will made out." He said. "Back in the old squadron, they made us put an ID tag around one of our toes, since statistically the foot is one of the most likely to survive body parts."

"Thats horrible Cash." She said.

"Tell me about it. Just for luck, I put my tag in my boot." He said with a smile he didnt feel.

*****The five fighters made the last jump out of hyperspace, appearing less than 100 kilometers from the lead of the Imperial convoy. The Hassid was lumbering along at the head, being followed by no less than six freighters, Gamorian by the looks of them. The fighters rolled hard towards the Hassid, their reflector screens snapping into place just in time to repel the first blasts of laser cannon fire. Each blast flared like a firework against the screen of folded energy, before winking out like a dying firefly.

The engines howled as they ramped up to full attack speed. Each pilot held onto the controls with iron hands, feeling each impact shudder through the frame of the craft. The crew of the Hassid was surprised as the fighters passed within 200 meters of their ship without firing their weapons or torpedoes. The guns rotated to track them, but the actuators weren't fast enough. The lead freighter shook under the impact of six torpedoes, while the second took only two hits. The Y-wings pulled around hard, turning back towards the Hassid.

"Fighter bays are opening, aim your shots for the doors." Cash said as the fighters closed the short distance between them. The first TIE fighters were starting to exit the hanger door as several laser blasts tore the lead fighter to pieces. Seconds later a torpedo hit just inside the door, blasting it free of the ship. The next TIE, artificially accelerated by the launch rail smashed into the thick door like a concussion round. More explosions rocked the Hassid as secondaries detonated inside the ship.

"Roll out, roll out!" Anton said over the commlink. The five Y-wings split drawing some of the TIEs that successfully exited the ship after them. Soondi cussed as she unloaded the wing's rear laser cannon on the TIE that swung up on her tail.

"Issa gotsa a hit..." Hun-Go said, his craft shuddering from the hit. The computer display turned the port engine a mix of red and yellow, signifigant damage. He rolled to the left, letting the offset in power throw the heavy Y-wing out of the TIEs gunsights. More laser blasts shook his rear deflector screens. "Wessa no gonna get any more attacka runs." He said.

"Keep it together, Cash, can you wingman for Hun-Go?" Anton said.

"I'm on it, I'm bringing a few old friends with me, their not to happy to see me again, guess they owe me money." Cash said as a pair of TIEs dogged his tail. "Keep 'em off me, I'm going in to clean that tail off of Bandit 2." He pushed the fighter for more speed, careening between the Hassid and the lead freighter. Imperial gunners tracked him, firing the quad laser cannons on the Imperial escort. The laser blasts missed the Y-Wing and tore deep into the already badly damaged leader freighter. It was already drifing out of position.

"We need some help out here." Dashi said, rolling his Y-wing in a mad attempt to throw a TIE off of his tail. "I've taken a hit and my tail gunners down, looks bad." He said.

"Yeah...we could use some help..." Anton said, wondering if there was some way in the Galaxy that the force could help them.

Multiple targets Captain," The Chief Weapons Officer said, monitoring the rebel assault from the CIS. "There are only five rebel fighters, they fit the profile of the Bandit squadron that has been hitting our convoys, but they seem to be flying well above their average."

"Explain." Captain Mahlen said, here eyes were hard as space-flint. The leade freighter had suffered systems failure and had drifted out of position. The rebels were using the damaged ship as a shield between them and the Hassids heavy guns.

"They are using flight tactics similar to Imperial standards, we've already lost six TIEs in dog fighting, not counting our losses when they fired torpedoes into the Starboard flight hanger." Mahlen gripped the rail and shouted her order.

"Bring us around, I want to be able to fire the forward batteries at these flyspecks." She said. The navigations offiver keyed in the sequence and the attitude jets fired, turning the multi-kiloton warship around. The ship cleared the burning wrecked of the unnamed #1 Gamorian freighter by less than a quarter of a kilometer. The five flyers of Bandit Squadron drew back along the line, weaving in and out of the freighters avoiding the Hassid's incessant laser cannon fire. One of the persuing TIEs was torn apart in the hailstorm of friendly fire.

"Sir, I've got incoming on the long range sensors, she's a big ship. Looks like a Vindicator class heavy cruiser." The electronics officer said, tapping out a sequence on the keyboard.

"The fleet retired that class almost a decade ago, there shouldn't be any operating." She said.

"The ship will be entering real space in approximately 30 seconds."

"Bring us around for an intercept couse, tell the TIEs they are on their own."

*****"You know that Imperial gunners are not trained to avoid shooting their own allies, any kill is a recorded kill, even if it is a TIE." Cash said as he swooped his craft around the superstructure of the number three frieghter, a beast almost twice the size of the Hassid. Laser blasts chased him as a pair of TIEs closed in one his tail. One flashed in an actinic flare as it disintegrated under imperial heavy fire. the blasts scored deep hits into the hull of the bigger frieghter but managed no to set off secondary explosions.

"Thats heart-warming." Soondi said as she unleashed another fusilade of fire from her rearward facing cannon. "I'll have to put that in a celebration card."

"We've got incoming, 10 seconds..." Anton said over the link. A few seconds later a venerable Vindicator class heavy cruiser broke out of hyperspace. The Hassid must have seen her coming as the escort destroyer had already turned to meet the new ship. The Imperial fleet emblem had been erased and masqued over with the Rebel fleet insignia. The big ship opened fire with heavy turbo lasers, gouging deep smouldering holes in the Hassid's armor plating. The shields buckled under the barrage of firepower.

The Hassid rolled, spewing debris from the ragged holes in her hull, the main power failing. Anton shouted with joy as the TIEs broke off and shot past the pitching nose of the Hassid to engage the new enemy ship.

"Contact bandit leader, do you confirm?"

"This is Bandit Leader," Anton said, "Please identify yourself."

"This is the Alliance heavy cruiser Amidala, we have sustained moderate damage and need to make repairs at your base of operations. I'm going to transmit access and ID codes now." The captain of the Amidala said.

"Information recieved, I'm going to transmit the location via secure encryption." Anton said. The other four fighters continued on their mission, disabling and destroying the cargo of the rest of the convoy. The guns of the Amidala made short work of half of the convoy ships.

"How's everyone doing?" Anton asked as the squadron limped back towards the base. They were all moving at 60% speed, the best that Hun-Go's damaged wing could manage. He felt like his bones had all turned to lead and his muscles to synth-jelly. It was amazing, a second run with no casualties, especially with the odds that they had gone against.

"I've been better, ready to sleep for a week now." Cash said. Dashi laughed over the link, agreeing with the former Imperial pilot.

"Meesa be soo glad to see da bunks." Hun-Go said. He watched the computer as it monitored the heat in the plasma relays to the damaged engine nacelle. He was glad that the Y-wing was as sturdy as it was. One of the more sleek and albeit faster fighters from his old homeworld wouldn't have taken a hit like that and lumped along through hyperspace afterwards.

"The Amidala is still on course for the base. Do you think there is a chance that this isn't what it seems like? If the Imps are willing to snipe off their own fighters whats to keep a big cruiser from sniping off an escort?" Nerim asked.

"The fact that an escort still costs hundreds of thousands of credits, and has more than 500 crewmen. 1 fighter and its pilot isnt even a fraction of that." Cash said.

"That and I have actually been briefed on the Amidala." Anton said. "She put to space about six months ago, she's a rebel convoy killer. Hopefully she wont have to break any blockades, but I dont see any planet garnering enough Imperial attention to be blockaded."

"Itsa not jussa de Empeere that doesa blockadin." Hun-Go said. "De trade Feederation blockadeed my home world. Dessa no be around no more, but dessa do da dirty work for de Empeere."

"Amidala was a Nabooian senator who stood against the creation of the Army of the Republic, she died during the Purge of the Jedi." Soondi said in a soft voice. "My people were strong with her sentiment. We did not want war, we did not want great armies. Our world was almost destroyed by great armies fighting each other."

*****The Amidala slowed and came up alongside the asteroid that was the homebase of Bandit Squadron. The Penetumbo, a medium Corellian freighter was berthed in the main bay, delivering vital supplies. The five fighters made their way around to the second bay on the far side of the rock and found open cradles to land their battered fighters.

"Look alive, look alive!" The Squadron Colonel shouted, directing ground crews to stow their tools and get the flight deck looking as good as possible. "We've got important guests, lets get this place looking like a serious flight deck." Her boots rang against the laser polished stone. Tools were put away and meters upon meters of coolant and power lines werer spooled up. "Is the last flight in the auxilliary hanger?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, once they are out of the fighters I want the bay sealed until out guests leave. I dont want the Admiral to see how beat up the fighters are." She said.

She picked up a call box and patched into the base intercom. "Attention all hands, Admiral Abelard will be arriving in ten minutes. I want all personel in the might flight hanger in full dress uniform. This means all personel, everyone in full dress uniform." She hung up the call box and trotted back to her quarters. In seven minutes she was in full dress, with her boots polished to a mirror sheen.

*****The Admiral's shuttle eased into the bay, setting down less than twenty feet from the hull of the Corellian freighter. The full staff of the base was standing in a double row dressed in uniforms that looked like they had been stowed in long term storage. The Colonel was only mildly disgusted with the turn-out. It made them look shabby and unprofessional. She favored a scowl along the line. She couldn't pick out Anton, or the black and white faced alien he was with alot, or even that freak-talking gungan.

The shuttle door popped, and hissed just as the fifteen man flight crew from the last mission ran up, still dressed in their orange flight fatigues. The Colonel was ready to have a coronary. The admiral walked out of the shuttle, flanked by several lesser ranking officers and a pair of marines. "This place looks alot better than the last time I saw it." Admiral Abelard said.

"Please forgive the mess, we've been busy and havent been expecting guests." She said unctuously.

"I can imagine. It was an excellent opportunity to inspect Bandit Squadron and we need to make some general repairs to the Amidala. My master technician is going to see about hooking the ship up to the base core reactor while we power the ship down for some engine repairs."

"You sound just like an evaluation form, Colonel." Abelard said. "I'm going to be giving this operation a hard evaluation. Bandit Squadron is the worst performing squadron in the entire Alliance. You rutinely request the most parts and replacement craft and deliver the least in return. By my last accounting the squadron only had eighteen TIE fighter kills and one destroyed frieghter. Thats in contrast with loosing seventeen Y-wings and associated pilots and crewmembers. This sounds like bad management to me." Abelard said, staring directly at the Colonel.

He looked at the men and women still in rumpled flight fatigues. There was an almost tangible smell around them, they had spent over 32 hours in cramped confines without shower access, or changing clothes. "These must be the pilots that we saw at the convoy." Abelard said.

"Sir, yes sir." Anton said saluting the admiral. The rest of the crewmen followed suit. Hanging around with Cash had given them some practice with a little flight formality. "Captain Anton van Rijn. This is my second, Lieutenant Hun-Go, and Sgt. Rhyman Cash. We would like to offer you a full and complete thanks. The Amidala came at just the right time sir."

"Sir, there was a problem with the cryobatteries..." The Colonel said before the Admiral interrupted her.

"Five fighters is not sufficient number to assault a convoy with fleet escort. Are these pilots really that good, or are you just throwing men and materiel at the enemy in hopes of some success?" The colonel was without responce.

"And then she had the nerve to look surprised!" Anton said, slapping the bar with his hand. Several empty glasses littered the mirror black synthplastic top. He gave a braying laugh that several of the other pilots and crewmen picked up on. It took a moment for the noise to die down, but even Cash couldn't help but smile. He felt out of place, but there was no mistake in the medal that hung from his rumpled flightsuit. The Admiral was in private meeting with the colonel, and the crew of the five fighters were still in their rough and ready orange.

"Sheesa be all eyes and teef." Hun-Go said, tossing back his head and laughing in the peculiar style that the gungans had. "Looksa like a gaffe-feesh with eets tail in de GarGar's mouth!" There was more laughing even though no one knew what a gaffe fish or a gargar were.

"There will be hell to pay when the Admiral leaves." Daishi said. "She's going to personally kick each of us in the groin before assigning the next mission."

"I doubt that." Anton said. "So, anyway I've heard on an inside track that our next mission is going to be close air support for the Amidala. We're going ship-side boys...and girls." Anton said, noticing the laser like glare that Soondi gave him.

Cash did a pre-flight check on his ride, Bandit 2. The Y-wing was looking better than ever. With the Amidala in berth, its crew technicians had volunteered to help cover some of the squadron's maintenance. The most visible improvement was the fresh coat of marking paint. A double charcoal line identified Bandit Squadron, and more surprising were the TIE kill markings along the nose of the craft. He counted four. One more and he would have been promoted to TIE ace back in the old Fleet, and given the option to become a TIE instructor rather than an active combat pilot.

"She should fly better now." A tech said, putting a hydrospanner back in his tool box. "Some of the fuel lines to the starboard nacelle were pretty gummed up and one of your cryobattery terminals had fouled out."

"I guess that would explain why it always seemed to pull to the right." Cash said, looking at the residue in a collection dish. How long had it been since the ground crews were able to do reoutine maintenance on these birds instead of triage? "I'm looking forward to being back on a ship."

"We are going to be glad to have some fighter coverage, no matter who it is." The tech said.